So, we decided to go Mac and then a great deal on a used MacBook fell into our laps...so I'm now the proud owner of a Mac. So much to learn!!

Here’s the situation - We are in the market for a new computer – a laptop for me to use while in the hospital and also once I am home it will become my personal machine. Mostly it will be used for internet access, but the other big part of it will be for my photography – storage of my photos but also editing, cleaning up, etc of my pictures. I have software that I am very happy with that works well on a PC – Google’s Picassa. I’m not a fan of Adobe Photoshop though that could be because I never mastered it hence it frustrates me. I have spoken to many people who are trying to convince me to switch to a Mac for this stuff. Mac is better I’ve been told. You can do so much more with a Mac – it’s the only way to go if you are serious about your photographs. But when I ask for reasons why I should spend two to three times as much money for a Mac, no one has yet been able to convince me.

I know I’m stubborn, but on this one I really want to be convinced to spend three times as much money for a MacBook or MacBook Air. I’ve always loved the sleek simple design of a Mac and am not against switching, but I need someone, anyone to explain to me why I should spend $1500 or even $1000 (for a used machine on Craig’s List) rather than $500 for a brand new Dell laptop. The machine will be used pretty much for 4 things – surfing the web, watching DVDs, organizing and editing photos, and iTunes. It will be my primary source of entertainment at the hospital, but once I am home the DVD viewing will be a very minor aspect of its use – so don’t bother telling me anything about the graphic quality, I won’t notice the difference. Keep in mind I’ve been a PC user my whole life so there will be a learning curve to switch to Mac, but not one I am averse to.

So here’s the challenge to all you Mac addicts out there – Convince me!! Tell me why I should switch?? And don’t tell me it’s because Leopard is more stable than Vista, I’m not an idiot, if I get the Dell it’s with XP, not Vista. Write directly to me or leave me a comment here. I’m serious about this. In the next 2 weeks we are buying a new machine – tell me why it should be a Mac.

What distracts me from the blog? I seem to publish on a six-month schedule, which is positively snail-mail. I asked myself this question recently and found I wasn't just disappearing from the blog, I was disappearing from my life for several months: not talking or e-mailing or calling anyone outside of my immediate family.

When you're faced with circumstances in life over which you have no control, you'll search for something that gives you that feeling. Sometimes these behaviors are self-destructive, very immediate and apparent: alcohol, drugs, violence, or other activities that damage mind, body, and life.

Other activities are good and constructive in themselves. Work, in moderation, is a great way to relieve stress, occupy your mind, and find meaning and fulfillment. If you're good at the work you do, and if you like what you're good at, then the satisfaction is magnified.

To a point. Anything taken to its extremes can become addictive and destructive, despite the best intentions.

I'm fortunate. I enjoy the work I do right now and I'm good at it. I especially enjoy the people I work with, the intellectual challenges of the projects, and the chance to help other people. I've been very fortunate to work in a company where my work is valued and where my employers put high value on personal relationships, especially on spending time with your family. All these are reasons why I find my work so satisfying and meaningful. It's intoxicating.

That's why I threw myself into work over the last several months, ignoring almost everything else in my life - this blog, e-mails, phone calls, friends, physical fitness, household duties, and even my wife. Jean is the true north in my life: she is the most important, and work is a distant 2nd, 4th, or 10th in my life priorities. Yet I spent 80, 90, or 100 hours a week away from her. Why would I do that?

Faced with Jean's health problems, which do not improve despite our best efforts, and the choices she faces in the near future, I threw myself into work. Threw myself like a diver plunging over a cliff or a man guzzling the first shot on a drinking binge. I wanted more of the satisfying feeling - I'm in control! I can accomplish something! I made a difference! I tried to do more and take on more. (Some people say you can't work too hard or too much at the expense of anything else. I've met these some people. I'll address this peculiar American illness later.)

Again, I'm fortunate. My employers spotted my swamped schedule and time mismanagement. A spurt of intense hard-work is sometimes necessary and important, but a long-term, maxed-out, over-tasked employee is bad for business and personal life. I'm never afraid to ask for help, but when I'm so distracted or engaged, I am unaware that I should ask for help.

I'm now searching for balance. It's not the first time, nor will it be the last. With balance and moderation in the last few weeks, I've found my mind and body better able to handle stress and change. There's a lot of that coming our way. There will be difficult decisions for us in the future. We'll need each other more than ever, and at a certain point, I won't be able to escape into the satisfaction of work (or anything else). I will be there with Jean to deal with what comes. And hopefully I will not be so distracted that I can't talk with you about it.

A lot of things happened last year, especially over the last few months. For more details, read Jean's most recent blog. We anticipate things will happen in the next couple of months. We've lived on the borders of medicine over the last eight years. This year we may cross into uncharted territory or an undiscovered country. It's a lot to think about.

At this moment, on New Year's Eve, I'm thankful and I want to express that gratitude. The feeling of gratitude might seem odd, given the misfortune we've faced and the future to come. But it's still there after all these years.

I'm grateful that I've had the support of so many people in our lives: our family, friends, colleagues, doctors, counselors, and even strangers who haven't met us except online or in hospital waiting rooms. They are my evidence of goodness in the world, that even in the worst of times, we have each other.

Most of all I'm grateful to my wife. She's given me the chance to share her life with me. I'm living with the purpose of not squandering that opportunity. I look back at the previous eight years and think: if I could alter the foundation of molecular biology, and conquer what the world's best doctors can't resolve, damn, I would do it in a heartbeat... but I do not regret the time I have spent with her. Not a second. This is my personal treasure. I hope we'll be able to live without any regrets in the time to come.

So give your loved ones a heaping helping of love - you can never give and get enough. And have a happy, healthy, fortune-filled year in 2008!

This has been an intense season for everyone. Jean is trying a new doctor and a new regimen of a familiar medication (read next door for the full details), and all the usual side effects and conditions that she endures. There were health problems in other wings of the Gasbarro family, which we hope won't be repeated. My job kept me very busy, flying to Columbus and Buffalo, which have their unique attractions, very little of which I experienced while working full-time. Finally, the house. People told me that managing a house is a full-time job. I thought I knew... and then I tried mulching. And fertilizing. And gardening - or, watching Jean garden, at any rate.

On the plus-side: Jean celebrated another birthday and we observed our ten year anniversary of knowing each other. Within ten years we've crammed a few lifetimes. Taking a break from those lifetimes, we took ourselves and Cooper to Martha's Vineyard, a fascinating exotic land off the shore of America. Maybe we'll post some pics. Cooper was the most popular fellow on MV. Something to do with a Black Dog. Isn't that a Led Zeppelin song?

He's a 5 year-old black labrador retriever. We adopted him from the Animal Rescue League of Boston, thanks to our sister-in-law Marianne.

He's a friendly, mellow, well-behaved dog. He's made himself at home on Hill Street and likes foraging around the grounds. Except there's nothing to forage - just snow. When spring comes and everything melts, he'll be a very happy lab with all the birds, animals, and smells in our woods and wetlands.

Stop by for a visit. Cooper would like to meet you.

Jean's undergone these checkups for six-going-on-seven years. Her last procedure was the surgery last March at Beth Israel, in which the doctors removed tumors from her bladder and tried to save her right kidney by transplanting it lower in the pelvis. The transplant failed, she lost the right kidney, and the surgeons accidentally damaged a nerve in her right leg, temporarily cutting off her ability to walk, use, or feel anything in the leg. She spent much of the last year recovering from this surgery. She regained most function in her right leg, which is great, but she's still suffering massive diarrhea and loss of nutrients, which is not so good. I'd say it was a hell of year last year, but in the context of everything she's been through, it's been a hell of a millenium.

There's a enormous amount of scheduling and coordination that occurs during the Quarterly Report.
- CT Scan
- Blood work
- Meeting with her oncologist, Dr. Lange
- Meeting with her urologist, Dr. Kerian
- Meeting with her surgeon, Dr. Nauta
- Meeting with social workers, counselors, and therapists
Each quarterly checkup is combination of some or all of the above.

There's also an enormous amount of anxiety. Why? The appointments are hassles unto themselves. Ask Jean about drinking contrast - go ahead, it's very tasty. Juggling professional work, personal life, and 2-3-4-or-5 doctors' visits in the space of week is stressful. We no longer live in Somerville, so the commute is much longer to Mount Auburn and Beth Israel.

And we're anxious about the Big Bad Thing. The cancer has recurred three times since it was dicovered in 1999. It recurs in 18 months or less. As we approach each quarterly checkup, we wonder and dread: Is this it?

We deal with the anxiety in a variety of ways. Mostly we distract ourselves: with work, television, more work, household chores, home improvement, going to the gym, staying up too late, and taking on too much work. A new home affords lots of opportunities for chores. Doing the laundry, or cleaning the floors, or weather-stripping windows, is like meditation: it takes focus and it soothes the mind.

Jean had the CT scan on Friday. We'll see Dr. Lange next Monday. Until then, there's so much to be done. We'll let you know what we find out when we find out.

The question within it was, "When your wife is facing a chronic, life-threatening and incurable illness, how do you go on?" And lurking under THAT question, like a long buried mummy slowly coming back to life, is the question, "Why?"

My answer at the time was succinct and profound. "Um. I don't know."

I never have given much thought. Usually there's so much going on - medical crises, housekeeping, work, and everything else in life that occupies us - that I don't have time for self-examination.

This is by no means a complete list, but it's just some of the way I get my day started.

1. I open my eyes. This helps immeasurably. The mornings I failed to open my eyes were ones I thought I was putting on a pair of pants to find out later in the office I was only wearing a dress sock.

2. I move my body. Let's not be drastic. This doesn't necessarily involve leaving the bed or doing downward dogs or push-ups. Instead, I shift my limbs around, slowly and diplomatically. Is my wife still there? Yes, she is. I try not to disturb her. She needs her sleep. Because of the intestinal side fx of her illness - a very short bowel means very frequent trips to the bathroom - her body doesn't absorb all the nutrients that the average body (a "normally-bowelled" body) needs to get through the day. Plus, she is not now nor ever was a morning person. So I let her sleep.

3. The alarm goes off. I jerk my limbs, fumble for the clock, accidently raise the volume of NPR to a low jet roar, and wake up Jean.

4. I make inquiries. After a low grumble from the other side of the bed, I ask the following question.
"How many times?" This refers to bathroom visits.
Her answer is one of the following:
a. Several. (I say I'm sorry.)
b. A couple. (Not bad. In sports terms the equivalent of your ball team making it to the playoffs, but not getting to the finals.)
c. None. (I do a small dance of joy, jerking my limbs, and further waking Jean.)

5. I get up and spring into action. This usually happens during emergencies, hospital stays, complications in the middle of the night. During times like these, I respond like General Ulysses S. Grant, who possessed what's called "four o'clock in the morning courage". The success of my courage always depends on finding my pants. (See #1)

6. I don't get up. I'm awake, but I just don't feel like getting out of bed. Or putting on clothes. Or going to work. Or eating. Or doing anything. Sometimes it's a protest over a late night of work, or not getting any sleep because of medical problems, or because we're in a hospital (a place as conducive to sleep as the Motel 6 next to Route I-95). Sometimes it's a sign of depression: a normal human reaction to extraordinary inhuman and over-whelming circumstances. Thanks to Jean, family, friends, and counselors, these mornings aren't so frequent. But they do happen. It's natural and no shame in it.

7. I go back to sleep. The most natural human reaction, especially on a cold winter morning before the crack of dawn. And I don't have to worry about pants.

So, yes, we're alive. You wouldn't know it from reading the blog. We promise to keep this updated regularly. Perhaps I'll even write some useful information about something. Stay tuned...

Another beautiful day: sunny and warm, yet dry and breezy. There were 4 water stops on the route, which took us along parts of Routes 6, 6A, and the Cape Cod Bike/Rail Trail. Lots of supporters and cheerleaders lined the sides of the road. Some people were out before dawn on the bridge, cheering us on.

Everyone looked good riding - Alex, Mark, and Tom - especially Mark, who got a lousy night sleep in the Mass. Maritime Academy dormitories. Tom and I slept well in the tent outdoors. Mark still kept us with Alex for the ride.

Mark and Alex crossed the finish line around 10:30 AM, about 5-1/4 hours later. Tom finished shortly before 11 AM, and I came across the line a little after 11 AM, just under 6 hours. Totally exhausted. VERY happy.

Tom and I found Mark and Alex sitting in one of the lunch tents, already showered and eating. I looked a sight: dollops of sunblock all over me and wedged in my ears. I didn't get sunburned, a remarkable feat in itself. Lots of free food and drinks - and a long line at the beer bar, which didn't open until noon. At the other end of our lunch table sat two celebrities: Billy Starr, who founded the PMC in 1980, and Greg Lemond, the first American to win the Tour de France and who won it three times.

I set my own person record: I biked 192 miles and finished the PMC for my wife, myfamily, my friends, everyone who supported me. And for myself.

I'll post pictures soon.

Alex, Mark, and Tom all did very well. Alex and Mark finished in about 8 hours. Tom came in at 8.5. I brought up the back at 9 hours. Hills are very tough.

Couldn't have asked for a better day. Dry and warm. Good spirits all around. We're at the Marine Maritime Academy in Bourne, eating, showering, resting.

We leave Bourne at 6 AM tomorrow. Only 81 miles to Provincetown!

More tomorrow,
Pat

Team Appendiceal Wheels is ready for tomorrow! Mark, Tom, Alex and I are staying at a campground 5 miles down the road. 3omorrow we'll wake up at 4 AM and get to the starting line to leave by 6 AM. The first leg is 112 miles from Sturbridge to Bourne.

I'll keep you updated when I can. Thanks for following and supporting us!

To Jean, my wife: Who took the photos, assembled and built the pics, designed and ordered the jerseys, assembled the postcards and notes, and planned so much. And still looked stunning in a lovely dress that evening.

To Mark: For coordinating with Tommy Doyle's, reserving the upstairs room, and ordering the vittles.

To Yvonne, Stephana and Tom: For the support and especially for the cupcakes.

Pat & Mary Alyce Gasbarro (my folks): Who drove up from RI and helped us setup the whole shebang. They've also been helping us enormously in moving out of our apartment. They've been doing double-duty.

To Marianne: Who helped setup, manned the desk, and kept us sane.

To Anne: Who brought o-ur 4 nieces and nephews (Aidan, Hayley, Ainsley, and Keegan), who really livened up the place.

To the McNamara Clan, who drove into the city from all over: Paul, Sean, and Aunt Sandy, who drove from Rhode Island.

And thanks to all of you who showed up!
George Ferreira
Suzanne Smetana
Dmitri Pavlov
Kris Taksen
Dave Putt
Doris Harney
Bob Harney
Curt Springer
Robert Budding
Ashley Freeman
Patricia Smith
Alex Calhoun
Teresina Cardamone
Chele Putt
Kate Silfen
Noreen Ryan
Terri Sojot
Hara Aronson
James McKenzie
Janet Tighe

And don't get me started on movies! 99% of movies slavishly follow this plot. A person, maybe too busy with work or some other distraction, contracts a serious disease. After some moderate inconveniences of illness (such as shouting at unsympathetic doctors and health care bureacrats), they re-evaluate their life and become a better person. It's very uplifting and leaves the audience satisified. Except the hero rarely ever loses their good looks, much less their hair, or suffers skin rashes, or debilitating and embarassing breakdowns of bodily functions. That would be too much of a downer. Why would people watch that?

The documentary A Lion in the House follows the stories of several children undergoing cancer treatment at the Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center. The filmmakers were granted extraordinarily intimate access in the conversations between the kids, their parents, doctors and nurses. Some of the kids barely understand what's happening to them. They hurt all over and wonder why their parents can't do anything. The parents are by turns heroic, smart, worried, enraged, delusional. The doctors and especially the nurses are brusque and compassionate, arrogant and practical, stoic and humbled. In other words, everybody is a human being.

Jean and I watched these programs. We recognized so much of our own experience. Probing doctors and patient nurses. Being woken every couple of hours for checkups. Pain. Tedium. Confusion. No definitive answers. Anxious waiting, and waiting, and waiting...

A fun night of TV viewing, no? It's actually quite gripping and moving. Real life is infinitely more interesting and bracing than tired melodrama. We all need a splash of cold, clean water to wake us up and remind us, "This is what really happens."

I'm riding in the Pan Mass Challenge, which raises money for cancer research at the Dana Farber Institute, particularly for research in childhood cancers. I wish they were doing more research on Jean's appendiceal cancer, and that's one of the reasons why I'm riding. Watching A Lion in the House reminds me of many other reasons.

A Lion in the House is now showing on local PBS stations. To find out more information, visit the program's website at http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/lioninthehouse/index.htm.

Jean was in the hospital 20 days - her longest stay yet. Being discharged after such a long stay is like waking from deep sleep. Rip van Winkle discovered he had slept through the American Revolution. We got home and discovered it was spring, snow had melted, and President Bush... was still President. Two out of three ain't bad.

I'll have more to say in the near future. If the e-mail notification didn't work - well, you won't know because you didn't receive any e-mail. But if you did - thanks for reading!